


Ghostbur was ready to full on kill a man and honestly good for him

by NoGenderOnlyGay



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author is a Wilbur Soot Apologist, Crack and Angst, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fundy Eret Tommy and Tubbo are all only mentioned, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I just think feral Ghostbur/Wilbur is neat, Let Ghostbur Go Feral, My First Work, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay, hurt/comfort if youre not a phil apologist, kind of, nobody is tbh, phil watson is a bad parent, tagging is hard, tw alcohol, tw for mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29348058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoGenderOnlyGay/pseuds/NoGenderOnlyGay
Summary: Wilbur is back from the dead! yay! (un)fortunately he remembers everything and literally decks Phil with a folding chair for being a shit dad, thats it thats the fic. But Ghostbur doesnt want to stay dead after gaining all his memories, especially because he's fused with insanebur.(help this is hard and i cant write summaries)
Relationships: Eret & Wilbur Soot, Technoblade & Phil Watson, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 134





	Ghostbur was ready to full on kill a man and honestly good for him

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhh so this is my first time posting! this was written solely for me and my friend (who might find this oop) but after seeing a few fics with wilbur telling Phil off for being just a tad shitty i thought i would post it.   
> ofc this is just the personas and all the irl people are lovely and non deserving (as far as im aware) of getting smacked with a folding chair.

He hadn't even been sure this would work, but here was his son, laying down on his grave, yet to open his eyes, but clearly solid. His chest was gently going up and down, breathing for the first time since he himself had plunged a blade into it.   
“Oh my god….Will, Will? It worked, thank god” Phil reached a shaking hand out to his son, but seemed too nervous to touch him. Slowly Wilbur stirred, shaking his head and caustionly sitting up. Phil quickly stumbled back to give his newly risen son some space, meanwhile Wilbur groaned in pain and blinked against the bright light.   
“Hi Will” Phil said softly, waiting for Wilbur to turn and see him, what he wasn't expecting were for his son’s eyes to harden and for him to stand up suddenly, towering over Phil who was still kneeling.   
“Hi dad, listen. I havent been able to touch alcohol for months so now i'm gonna go chug a bottle of wine, and then im gonna fucking deck you, sound good?” he said in an overly cheery voice, already starting to walk away, a bit shakily but determined.   
Phil simply sat in shock, unsure of what to do. He had been expecting some crying, memory loss, if worse came to worst having insane Wilbur back. This was, understandably, not on the list.   
“What the fuck” He said queitly to himself, diciding to simply wait for Wilbur to come back so they could talk.   
Phil was sitting there for at least 15 minutes and was just about to get up and go after his son when something crashed down on his head.   
“WHAT IN THE BLOODY FUCK?” he yelled standing up and drawing his sword in a matter of seconds, behind where he had been sitting was Wilbur, that fucking old coat drapped around him, a bottle of some half empty alcohol sat nearby, as both his hands were full of a folding chair.   
Phil relaxed slightly seeing it wasn’t a mob but only his son, though his head hurt like hell  
“What was that for?!” He asked, rubbing the back of his head where the metal had smacked into it.  
“Awww daddy dearest wants to know what he’s done!” Wilbur said mockingly, dropping the folding chair and letting it crash against the earth.   
“You know, Phil, when I was up in hell I met someone. You might’ve heard of him…” and oh god he had to know what he was doing, using that wording, standing before Phil with an almost manic smile on his face. It reeked of memories and unresolved feelings   
“...a dictator by the name of Schlatt. And he told me some things, taught me some lessons, gave me a few slaps I deserved. But the best ones, those I got while crying.”  
Phil was still standing stiffly, clearly Wilbur was not in his right mind, he’d hoped dying and coming back would act as a sort of reset for his son’s mental health, but clearly it hadn’t worked. Meanwhile said son was sitting down and taking sips of alcohol in between speaking as though it were the most normal thing in the world.   
“I can see you thinking, I’m guessing you’re feeling sorry for yourself because I’m not what you wanted huh?” Phil opened his mouth to argue, or rather lie through his teeth, but Wilbur flicked the bottle cap against his forehead with enough force behind it to effectively shut him up.   
“Oh my god shut uppppppp. I’m not done talking, dad” Wilbur was drunk enough to start slurring his words slightly as he rolled his eyes and took another gulp.   
“Anyway, I realized some things. It basically boils down to: you’re shit, I’m shit, tommy and tubbo are children and Casper the ghost was known for being friendly not smart. Speaking of, I talked to Ghostbur as well, he’s better than me I’m not gonna lie. But he thinks I’m strong and can fix things, and I don’t intend to keep letting people down. I’ve failed in every way possible it seems, as a dad, a romantic partner, a leader, a friend and a brother. But because of the childish ideas of a ghost and your dumbass I have a second chance...and by twitch prime I don’t intend to waste it” Wilbur leveled his gaze with Phil’s, his eyes were dark and determined, contrasting with the flush of his cheeks from drinking.   
“I suppose you’re not going to let me get a word in edgewise?” Phil finally asked, desperate to break the odd tension even if it meant being a little bitchboy.  
“Correct you lying whore. We’ve addressed the “I’m shit” part now let’s talk about you being shitty. See, dad, I’ve been watching everything on the SMP go down, and unlike my ghost, I don’t have memory problems” Wilbur had a shit eating grin on his face as the implications of that statement dawned on Phil.  
“Oh yes, you don’t get to pull fucked up shit and then turn around and be close to me anymore” Wilbur stood up, letting the now empty bottle clunk to the forest floor with the folding chair.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about” Phil said carefully, trying to put years of having kids to use and lie through his fucking teeth.   
Wilbur sighed and crossed his arms, rolling his eyes up to the sky “Oh dadza, you always were a lying motherfucker. Made uno fun but that's not the point. Don't think I haven't forgotten L’manburg’s gone, I had a home there you know. Even as a naive ghost-” as though summoned by the mention of him, Ghostbur flickered into place, he seemed to be almost an overlay over Wilbur. A soft distortion that shone slightly and moved freely from the now frozen in place Wilbur. Phil blinked in surprise, had it not worked then? But no, because his son, his very solid son judging from how much his head still hurt, was still standing there. Almost as if on pause. Meanwhile Ghostbur was smiling, but it wasn't like his other normal smiles, it was baring his teeth like a threat, something he must have picked up from Techno as a kid, Phil thought vaguely.   
“I'm supposed to be dead as you know, and I intended to stay that way! But the funny thing is that Ailvebur being here seemed to trigger all my lovely little memories!” Ghostbur clapped his hands as though in glee, smiling widely, but Phil wasn't fooled. “And I was going to stay out of it! I really was!! Alivebur here was doing a remarkable job, just like I knew he would! But see, remembering all that in a rush really does make someone lose their temper a bit” Ghostbur laughed and stepped away from Wilbur’s body, like a shadow peeling off a wall as he advanced on Phil, still smiling as though he had not a care in the world. “Finally, I just couldn't stand there watching anymore! I just had to join in! See, this is my own apology letter to Tubbo and Tommy, in a way I was no better than Alivebur….not pog as Toms would say…” Ghostbur trailed off for a moment, ghostly outline wavering slightly, as though the regret washing off him in waves would sweep him away. But there was no forgetting or running or blue this time. “See Phil, I've been letting this shit slide for too long” Ghostbur was “smiling” again, close enough to Phil for him to see in detail the ghost’s face.  
“Your bad habits die too slow Phil” Ghostbur gave a shove, forcing Phil to stumble back against a tree. The older man was too shocked to move for a moment before his impulses kicked in and he darted away, just in time too, Ghostbur had pulled a diamond sword from...somewhere. And oh god. W..was that blood? Phil could have sworn he’d kept the sword Wilbur had forced him to kill him with, he had been sure it was still stuffed away in the bottom of his enderchest. But the ghost of his son, whose body was still standing frozen a few steps away, was holding the sword, dry blood still spattered over it in an unforgettable pattern. Especially for the man who put it there, who watched it spread and stain as he shoved the blade deeper into the chest of his son.   
Meanwhile the ghost stared at him, a look of rage so unbefitting Ghostbur’s face plastered over it that Phil shivered. Ghostbur opened his mouth and adjusted his grip on the sword, just for his silhouette to flicker, smearing at the edges as though some god in the heavens had taken an eraser to him. And in the space of one breath, Ghostbur was gone, nothing left behind of him except the harsh feelings in Phil’s chest.   
Wilbur stumbled forward, breathing violently as though he’d just dragged himself out of water, a few breaths away from drowning.   
“MOTHERFUCKER YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO STAY DEAD” Wilbur yelled up at the sky in annoyance. He finally seemed to notice Phil staring and tugged on the sleeves of his coat awkwardly, clearing his throat before speaking.  
“Now where was I? Ah yes-“ this time Phil cut him off  
“Now listen here. You’ve stood there and gone off about morals or some shit for some time, you fucking DECKED me with a folding chair for crying out loud-“here Wilbur snorted and smiled as though at a fond memory “-all without letting me talk. Frankly I’m regretting all the time I spent bringing you back” Wilbur was clearly getting riled up again, he looked ready to go grab the folding chair for a second time.   
“After all I’ve done for you and your brothers you still continue to destroy and fuck up and waste everything you’re given” Phil said coldly, glaring at his son.  
The son in question froze, his body went stiff and he stared at the ground, if Phil wasn’t so angry he might have noticed the tears prickling in Wilbur’s eyes, though if he would have cared is doubtful.   
“You know why Eret is better than you?” Wilbur suddenly spoke, clenching his fists and taking controlled breaths to keep the tears in his eyes, he would not cry in front of Phil, not because he was ashamed to cry, but because Phil did not deserve to see him cry. He did not deserve to see Wilbur in a vulnerable way.   
“I don’t see how he could be better, the things I did they did. And for much worse reasons” Phil argues, crossing his arms and tilting his head bitchly   
Wilbur laughed rudely in the blond man’s face before speaking   
“Oh yes, I suppose you did both betray your friends and blow up L’manburg” Wilbur said the name of his country wistfully, as one would utter the name of a dead lover, no one else said L’manburg like that. It was just another reminder that it truly belonged to Wilbur.  
“But the difference is that she suffered, he had consequences and lost everyone close to them. And she had to work for everything he wanted back. You didn’t, because the one person you couldn’t bear to lose, who’s leaving might actually get through your thick skull, just so happens to fully agree with your ideals.” Wilbur was sneering, getting right up in Phil’s space, anger blazing gently in his eyes.   
“Technoblade has nothing to do with this, just because I have good relationships while you destroyed all of yours doesn't mean you get to attack me” Phil shot back, venom dripping off every word.   
“I swear to god I'll let Ghostbur come back” Wilbur threatened, mad enough to almost laugh. His insanity was mostly a thing of the past, dead. Which was probably why Ghostbur seemed to have melded with it, both “dead” parts of him.   
A look of fear almost raced across Phil’s face, but it was the reflection of a ghost, and gone too quickly to satisfy Wilbur, much less the still bloodthirsty Ghostbur begging to be put back in control.   
It was Phil’s turn to roll his eyes “Face it Wilbur, you mean nothing to anyone now, nothing good anyway. I was the only one here for your resurrection, and even I'm regretting that. You really should’ve stayed dead” he said carelessly, neglecting to mention no one was there because he hadn't told anyone he was bringing him back tonight, his words were to wound, not to inform, after all.   
Wilbur felt his eyes glaze over as he once again fought tears, this was his dad? He’d known Phil had been….acting less than great recently but. God he didn't know it'd hurt this much. Ghostbur was begging in his ear again, repeating over and over that he could just take control! Just for a moment! He wouldn't kill Phil-not that he didn't deserve it-he promised!!  
Phil raised an eyebrow at Wilbur’s silence and started to turn away, getting ready to leave “Well if you're just going to STAND there i suppose i'll be going-” Ghostbur laughed in glee as Wilbur finally relented, his ghostly fist managing to land a good solid hit on Phil’s chin.   
He again summoned the diamond sword to his hands but Phil was ready this time, the lifeblood stained blade thunked deep into Phil’s shield, as the man behind it fumbled for his comicater, intending to call Techno. While normal Wilbur didn't seem to want to harm him anymore than the folding chair, Ghostbur was more eager for blood than even Techno’s chat.   
Ghostbur let the sword disappear, going back to whatever void dead things live in, before returning it to his still blue tinted hands, hands that had healed and helped and tried to do better than their alive counterparts. But everyone has a breaking point, and Ghostbur had well fucking reached his.   
He chased Phil around the forest, swinging the sword with enough force to crack the trunks of trees when he missed, but Phil wasn't called the angel of death for nothing. He never got a worse injury than a bruise, no matter how fast Ghostbur moved or how hard he swung.   
Finally the crunch of Technoblade’s boots reached the ears of the two fighting men. At the sight of him Phil sighed in relief, in the span of a second he’d grabbed an enderpearl from his pockets and chucked it at his feet’s feet, teleporting next to him and away from the homicidal sheep-fucker ghost.   
At the sight of Techno Wilbur hurried to take control again, the stupid ghost would get them both killed, and though Techno also needed to answer for some things, it was not the time for that conversation (or more likely, that fight)  
Wilbur shoved Ghostbur back into the astral plane or some shit he didn’t know. He was in control long enough to step further away from Phil and Techno, raising his hands to signify he wasn't here to fight. Techno nodded his head to Wilbur before turning to Phil, clearly checking to see how injured Phil was.   
Ghostbur flickered into place, parts of him kept fading in and out of focus, and he was more see-through than normal   
“I HOPE IT WAS WORTH IT” Ghostbur screamed at the founders of the arctic empire “I HOPE LOSING EVERYONE YOU SWORE TO PROTECT, LIVING AS AN OUTCAST, SEEING FEAR IN TUBBO’S EYES AND SADNESS IN TOMMY’S IS WORTH IT” he put a new meaning to feral, his blank foggy eyes were wide, deep blue sludgy dye streaming from his eyes and mouth, stained teeth bared like a the warning of a barbed wire fence.   
Techno stood still with shock as Phil masked his discomfort with a scowl, turning away he lightly tugged on Techno’s arm, and together they left Wilbur there. Left the screaming and sobbing ghost. Left the kid they’d raised. 

~~~~ 

Maybe Fundy would wake the next morning to find a strange assortment of things left right outside his house, sitting atop a folding chair was a letter and some flowers. Maybe he’d be confused and pick the things up, bringing them inside. Maybe he’d read the letter, the stumbled over awkward apology, one that seemed bad enough to be heartfelt, and almost laugh over the invitation to take the folding chair and deck his father with it. Or. Ex-father. Because maybe folded within the note was a signed adoption paper, stating that Eret would now be Fundy’s legal parent.   
And maybe Fundy would sit down in shock, and maybe he’d cry (just a little) and maybe he’d go walking around that day to try and find the founder of L’manburg. Who’s to say. 

Maybe Eret would find a similar letter, one that held the new L’manburg song, one written all in the past tense, with “our” instead of “my” and finally “bye” in the last chorus of the song. And maybe he’d rush to Fundy’s house and the sight of an adoption paper, and maybe they’d be ecstatic and join Fundy on his search for their ex-president. But no one really knows. 

And just maybe Tubbo and Tommy would open their door to find a very tired Wilbur, looking a bit worse for wear but smiling. And maybe they’d all cry and Wilbur wouldn't dodge the punch Tommy threw at him, and maybe he’d shake Sam’s hand and say over and over how thankful he was for Sam’s looking after of his brothers.   
Maybe he’d see everyone’s new scars and decide Ghostbur could get a little more time down here, and perhaps he’d tell Tommy how proud he was and tell Tubbo how brave he was and how good of a leader the young boy was. One can hope.   
But we may never know for sure.


End file.
